HIS WILLING TOY
It took longer than I wanted, and sweat was already beading on my neck, but it finally gave, popping open with a soft snap.
I glanced around to make sure no one saw me, before I slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind me.
The air inside was musty and thick with dust. Crates lined the walls, stacked high, their lids pried open just enough to see inside. Pistols gleamed, rifles sat in rows, and ammo boxes were packed tight.
My stomach dropped. The reality of Enzo’s world hit me hard. I ran my fingers over a crate, the wood rough under my touch, before moving in deeper, looking for something, anything, that might tell me more.
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